Chapter 50: Talfryn
“Promise me you won’t pick a fight.”
Talfryn adjusted his clothes, finely crafted in reds and oranges with a spattering of gold and sewn to hint at fire, and grinned at Akton. He looked good, too, white hair trimmed and combed, clean shaven now. His clothes were white-blue and silver and swirled like a winter storm. They hadn’t even spent the crowns on anything truly fancy—they had gone with a small business near the western edge of Ylenia, after all—and yet these were the finest clothes Talfryn had ever worn.
“Have I ever picked a fight?” he asked.
“You tried to get Ylenia to execute you,” said Akton. Talfryn moved over to kiss the scowl off his face. He was feeling better than he had a few days ago, and he seemed able to be excited for something again. Seeing the
